


Killer | Queen: London, December 1936

by rainpuddle13



Series: Killer | Queen [6]
Category: Agatha Christie's Poirot (TV), And Then There Were None (TV 2015), CHRISTIE Agatha - Works
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:22:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9218855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainpuddle13/pseuds/rainpuddle13
Summary: If you should die before me, ask if you can bring a friend.





	

_London, December 1936_

Nighttime was the hardest to bear. The quiet that settled amongst the rooms of the old townhouse after their evening meal put him on edge. Every creak, every scraping of a chair on the wood floors downstairs, a car lumbering down the street made him jump. Brody, the two men he’d hired for extra security, and the housekeeper rarely raised their voices. 

Alice wouldn’t have stood for any of that nonsense and would’ve immediately put the radio on. She hated silence.

Hemingway’s latest book made a muffled thunk when he tossed it on the table next to the loaded pistol, positioned at the ready, and poured himself another drink from the half-empty bottle of Jamesons. The drinking was starting to get out of control, he knew that, but it was the only way he could obliterate the memories of Alice -- his Alice -- lying bloodied and broken in the dirty gutter enough to sleep. He scrubbed his hands over his face as if he could somehow stop the flickers of images from that horrible day from haunting him. 

He’d let out a strangled sob when the doctor’s words echoed in his head: " _Are you a praying man, Mr Lombard?_ ” 

He wasn’t, and hadn’t been in years, not since he’d left Ireland, turning his back on his upbringing. His indifference to Catholicism hadn’t stopped him from finding the nearest church after he was forced to leave her bedside that first night. The ward nurse did not seem to care that Alice might not last the night. Visiting hours were over and there were no expectations. So he did the only thing he could do: he lit a candle at the altar, got on his knees, and begged God to spare her.

It was his fault. All of it. If he hadn’t stolen that small cask of diamonds and sapphires from Howard Stenson none of this would have happened. Alice would be fine. She’d be bothering him about what color ribbons he liked for the Christmas tree or what pudding he’d want with dinner. He stopped stalking around the bedroom long enough to pour himself another drink, downing it in one go, then throwing the glass at the mantle in frustration, sending shards of glass skittering across the Turkish carpet.

A soft knock put a halt to his self-recriminations and he drew in a deep, sobering breath before barking, “What?” The staff knew better than to disturb him once he’d retired for the evening unless it was dire, and even then there were no guarantees against his wrath.

“Philip, are you alright? I heard a noise.” The door pushed open, his heart nearly stopped when Alice slipped into the room, looking very wan in the dim light, wrapped in a pale pink silk robe and wearing her favorite pair of white, kitten-heeled, feathered slippers. Six weeks in hospital had leached the life out her, leaving behind a shadow of the woman he loved with all of heart and soul. The anger in him dissipated in a blink of an eye. 

He had to put a hand on the chair by the fireplace to steady himself at the sight of her, embarrassed at her finding him disheveled and well on his way to being drunk. It was so difficult to believe she wasn’t an apparition sent to torment him for all the evil things he’d done over the course of his life. “You should be resting,” he gently admonished. 

“I’m tired of being in bed,” she told him, but she hadn’t let go of the door jamb. She’d only recently begun moving about more, but she grew tired quickly.

He crossed the room to take her arm before her legs gave way from under her. “Come, let me see you back. Did Maggie give you your evening draught?” The bones moved beneath her skin, delicate as a bird, when she tried to free herself from his grasp. 

She sighed when he wouldn’t let go. “I’d rather have what you’re having.”

“I’m sure you would.” He gathered her against his side when she swayed unsteadily. “You’re cold,” he observed when she trembled and he rubbed a hand slowly up and down her back.

“I want to stay with you for a while,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist and looking up at him. “I get so lonely when you leave me after supper.”

There was no point in arguing with her, something he’d learned long ago, so he guided her to the armchair where he sat with her settled in his lap and snuggled in the crocheted afghan from the foot bed. They fell into a comfortable silence, sharing a cigarette while she savored the glass of whiskey he allowed her.

“Feel better?” he asked, taking the empty tumbler from her hand and placing it on the table. 

“Yes,” she answered, leaning into the tender kiss he pressed to her forehead.

“Good,” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose against her cheek because he could and felt her shiver. It’d been so long since he’d been able to hold her like this and he relaxed when she sighed and threaded her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. She didn’t hate him for what had happened, and for that he was grateful.

Alice kissed him tentatively, and he could feel her lips curling into a smile beneath his when he returned the favor. “A bit scruffy,” she observed, scritching her short nails against the heavy shadow of whiskers along his jaw.

“Aye,” he breathed, no point in trying to deny the fact he hadn’t bothered to shave since the day before. He’d been letting a lot of things slide as of late.

“That isn’t like you, Philip,” she chided softly, making his heart wrench painfully. “I’m worried about you.”

“Worried about me?” he croaked out. That was the last thing she should have been doing and the guilt gnawed at his gut. “Worried about _me_?”

“Yes.” She caught his eyes with her concerned ones. “You’ve not been yourself since I came home.”

He inwardly berated himself for not having the presence of mind to hide his degradation better from her. She might come across as a bit flighty and frivolous, but he knew better. Alice was one of the most observant people he’d ever known. The last thing she needed at the moment was to concern herself with his well being. “Alice,” he started before she cut him off.

“Philip.”

“I could count the freckles dusted across your cheeks right now if I wanted to do so,” he said, hoping to distract her. He was barely holding himself together. He did not want her picking him apart, making him say things, admit to things, _feel_ things that were better left locked away at the moment.

She sighed, and he thought she’d light into him for mentioning the adorable freckles she hated so much. Instead, she sank further into his arms and fiddled with the edge of the blanket for a while. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire in the grate.

“Kitten,” Philip whispered when he felt cool dampness seeping through the rumpled cotton of his shirt, moving to brush the tears from her cheeks with a gentle swipe of his thumb, “I thought you’d fallen asleep.”

“No, I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“All sorts of things.”

“Like?”

“You.”

He snorted at that. “You needn’t worry about me, my love.”

“I will if I want and you cannot stop me,” she declared, suddenly sounding more like the woman he’d fallen in love with.

“Yes, ma’am,” he obediently replied with a half-chuckle, yet he didn’t feel any mirth that he would have two months ago before everything had gone to hell.

She held out her left hand in the meager light, fingernails devoid of their usual bright polish and a conspicuously bare third finger. “Do you have my wedding ring?”

He froze. “Yes.”

“I don’t think it’ll fall off now.” The jig was finally up after weeks of dodging the truth. He fished a handkerchief with his initials embroidered in one corner from his trouser pocket to lay in her lap before taking her cool hand in his and kissing the palm, mindful of the newly mended bones in her fingers. “Oh,” was her only response upon discovering the heavy gold band in several pieces.

“I’m so sorry, kitten,” he said, eyes watering with unshed tears. He was unprepared for the welling of emotion seeing the broken pieces of the gold band he’d slipped on her finger during a hasty marriage ceremony in Scotland not four months past. “The doctor had to cut it off. I hadn’t the heart to tell you before now.”

“Can it be repaired?”

“I’ll buy you a diamond ring when you’re feeling better. I’ll even take you to pick it out if you’d like.”

“I don’t want a diamond ring,” Alice cried, her words stabbing at his heart. “I want _my_ ring.”

“I know, I know,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her temple. “I’ll take it to one of the Jews in Hatton Garden first thing to see about it.” If it couldn't be repaired, then the goldsmith shops there were the best option for finding the closest approximation he could.

Alice nodded, lost in thought as she traced dull red spots of dried blood splattered across the snowy white square of linen with the tip of her finger. “It was bad wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he conceded after debating how much to tell her. She didn’t need to know the particulars of those horrible first few weeks when the doctor’s kept her drugged out of her mind because of the pain. He could still see horrible discoloration and swelling that distorted her face and marred her body, the bandages, the broken bones. She hadn’t been allowed a mirror with which to see herself until just a few days before she had been ready to go home.

“It’s all so hazy.” She frowned, brows furrowing as she attempted to recollect the missing gap of time.

Philip shook his head. “Don’t, kitten. It’s not worth it.”

“I almost died didn’t I? That’s why I can’t remember clearly isn’t it?” 

“Yes.” He drew in sharp breath, the constant fear and worry still lurking just beneath the surface of his mind. “It was a very near thing.”

“I thought so.” 

“Four days,” he said suddenly, the dam bursting, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck when a sob threatened to choke him. Philip tried to force himself to calm down, trying to breathe her in to reassure himself that Alice was not a figment of his imagination. She was really there, in his arms, in their home, and on the slow mend. She smelled of lilies from her bath before dinner. “Four days I sat by your bed with the doctor telling me there was little hope for you. That you were too broken, too damaged to survive.” She smoothed her fingers lightly along his jaw and murmured nonsensical things to him as he spoke. “They had to throw me out every night. I was so afraid, Alice. So afraid for the phone to ring in the middle of the night. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat.”

Alice kissed his forehead before tipping his head up with gentle fingers beneath his chin to kiss his lips softly. “Baby, I’m still here. You can’t get rid of me so easily.”

“Thank God for that.” His arms tightened around her, almost fearing she’d disappear if he let her go despite her reassurances. “I even went to church and lit a candle for you that first night. I got on my knees and prayed to God to spare you, even though I had no right.” 

“Oh, Philip,” Alice gasped, shock evident in her clear blue eyes when she sat up to seek the truth of his words on his face. He knew that would be rather surprising news to her, considering his harsh views on the religion of his upbringing. “It couldn’t’ve been all that bad.”

He settled her back against him, holding her close, her head rest on his shoulder while she toyed with the undone buttons on his shirt. “Worse,” Philip assured her.

There was nothing else to say for the moment so he allowed the conversation to die off. She had to be exhausted now, having not been out of bed except in short stints for weeks. Besides, he hadn’t wanted to worry her any further with his slow, spiraling decent into madness. Once he’d known she’d survive her injuries, he’d become consumed with the need to exact revenge, to see Howard Stenson draw his last breath on this earth surrounded by a pool of his own blood. Philip didn’t know when, where, or even how yet, just that there was a reckoning coming.

“I’m going to kill him,” he muttered as thoughts of murder danced in his mind’s eye.

Alice shifted in his lap, raising her head a bit, and asking tiredly, “Kill who?”

“I’m going to kill the bastard who did this to you, painfully and slowly.” 

“Not if I kill him first,” she responded with little conviction.

“Are you tired?” he asked, concerned that he was the reason she was staying out of bed. The nurse that visited every other day was adamant Alice rest as much as possible while she convalesced. 

“A little maybe,” she confessed, reaching up with one a hand to barely brush her fingers over one of the dark circles under his eyes. “Come to bed with me. You’re tired as well.”

Bone-weary, more like, and lacking the ability to deny her anything. That was his true state. “Only for a little while.”

She hummed her consent and didn’t protest when he insisted on carrying her in his arms the short distance to the big bedroom across the hall. He couldn’t help thinking how small she looked nestled among the piles of pillows on the massive bed where she waited for him to perform his nighttime ablutions. She’d been fiddling with the white silk ribbon tied around the neck of the little stuffed tiger he’d given her in the midst of the early dire days in hospital when he finished. The smile she gave him when he padded barefoot from the bathroom wearing his favorite Oxford blue cotton pyjamas was enough to warm even the blackest of souls.

“Should I be jealous?” he grumbled with mock concern, left eyebrow arched. 

“Never,” she answered, giving the cute little toy a kiss before placing it on her nightstand. “Well, maybe just a little.”

“I will have to endeavor to win your heart back then.” Philip checked the pistol he kept in his nightstand drawer to make sure it was still loaded.

“I look forward to it, handsome,” she giggled.

“You were supposed to be asleep,” he chided, reaching to turn down the soft ivory duvet covering the bed. It felt strange after so many weeks to be getting in his own bed with his wife. Maybe he would be able to shut his eyes and actually get some rest.

“I was waiting for you.” Alice snuggled against his side immediately, seeking any warmth he could provide. The room had cooled considerably as the evening wore on. Neither of them liked to sleep hot.

Philip relished the comfort of her weight against him, how their legs immediately entangled, the feel of her hand under his pyjama top resting on the flat of his stomach. It was like they’d not been separated for the past eight weeks. “Kitten,” he warned when her hand started to sneak south. His cock twitched in anticipation.

“Please,” was all she said before leaning up to kiss him, still tasting of the last sip of whiskey she’d drank. The press of her soft breasts against his chest sent a jolt of desire straight through him. “I need you,”

“Alice.”

“It’s been so long.”

“You’re not ready for this.”

Any further response he might have made was silence by her mouth covering his. It was a battle he knew he would lose. The woman in his arms had proven irresistible from the moment he’d come across her in a hotel bar in Paris. She had devised the ‘chance’ meeting between them because his reputation had preceded him and she’d wanted to see how much of it was true. Fate had other plans for them.

So he did the only thing he could do given the circumstances -- he kept kissing her, softly, tenderly, drinking in the taste of her. Alice smirked when he pulled the silk nightgown over her head and tossed it on the floor. He knew what she was about, but he had other plans. She was still too weak and fragile for all the things he truly wanted to do to her despite what she thought on the matter.

“P-please,” she mewled against his mouth, still trembling from her orgasm, “P-Philip.” He hummed, sinking his fingers even deeper into her core, carefully probing for the magic spot that would send her flying again. “Please,” she begged.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he told her, leaning back to watch her face as the pleasure overtook her again. 

“I want you inside of me.” The grip she had on his wrist tightened as she tried to still his hand and he could feel her squirm half trapped under him. “Please.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I’ll hurt you.”

“You won’t.” She let go of his arm to seek out his hard cock. He could feel the heat of her fingers through the thin material of the pjyama bottoms and he groaned. “I need you.”

“No, no,” Philip choked out, pressing his forehead to hers and squeezing his eyes shut. It wasn’t worth risking injuring her again for a few moments of bliss. He couldn’t risk it. “I can’t. I won’t.”

“It’ll be alright,” she assured him while boldly taking matters into her own hands. He shuddered when she stroked him firmly after shoving his bedclothes out of the way, using her thumb to press the sensitive vein along the underside of his cock. “You want me.”

“I do,” he hissed, angry with himself for allowing things to get out of control. This was not what he’d intended at all. 

“Then have me.” 

“Goddamn you,” he growled, nearly out of his mind with desire for her, shedding his remaining clothes quickly. It’d been so long, too long, he needed her like he needed air to breathe, water to drink. She was his everything and he was hopeless to resist her. He could feel more than hear her contented purr as she arched and stretched beneath him, long shapely legs coming up to wrap around his waist as he sank into her welcoming body with a guttural groan. 

He could feel her fingers ghost across his cheek when didn’t begin to move, and she softly pleaded, “Please. I need you.”

“I can’t.” 

“I won’t break,” she said, arching and writhing as much as she could beneath him, “I promise. Please, Philip…” It was futile to try to resist her any longer and he began to move, slow and sure, resting most of his weight on his forearms to keep from crushing her. 

She drew her short fingernails over his shoulder blades, leaning her head back to expose her neck to his questing mouth. “God, yes,” she moaned, “yes, yes, yes.”

It was as if everything that had been out of sorts in the world had finally clicked back into place afterwards when Alice curled against his left side, head on his shoulder, legs tangled with his, and her arm thrown across his midsection. She’d fallen asleep almost immediately and he pressed a tender kiss to the crown of her head. “I love you, kitten,” he whispered to her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to mmmuse for all the poking and prodding and hand holding while I worked in this. I appreciate it very much! You're the best!


End file.
